


to put me in love with the good life

by DarknessAroundUs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Future Fic, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor or background Relationships - Freeform, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: After winning the election, the Republican’s declare that since they are in charge of the house and the senate, they are going to prove once and for all that soulmates are real.More than that, they are going to create a test that will show everyone who their real soulmate is. Their stated goal behind all of this absurdity is the sanctity of the nuclear family and the “righteousness of heterosexual relationships”.Fuck them, Stiles thinks, because it seems like a shitty idea; dumb and expensive, not to mention impossible.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 278





	to put me in love with the good life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatWillTheGirlBecome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatWillTheGirlBecome/gifts).



> The title is a line from Thrice All American - By Neko Case.
> 
> The beta is done by the wonderful KittiLee who doesn't read Teen Wolf, but who has watched the whole show.
> 
> Gifted to WhatWillTheGirlBecome, because we are very much friends ;)
> 
> I've been reading primarily Teen Wolf fanfiction for over a year now. My complete love of it took me by surprise. I didn't think I'd ever write anything in the fandom. But I have now written four soulmate AU's for my original fandom, and when this idea for one struck me, it seemed perfect for the Teen Wolf universe. I started this in January (all the protesting parts were actually written then), took a long pause, and now it's done.

After winning the election, the Republican’s declare that since they are in charge of the house and the senate, they are going to prove once and for all that soulmates are real. 

More than that, they are going to create a test that will show everyone who their real soulmate is. Their stated goal behind all of this absurdity is the sanctity of the nuclear family and the “righteousness of heterosexual relationships”. 

Fuck them, Stiles thinks, because it seems like a shitty idea; dumb and expensive, not to mention impossible. 

It turns out that throwing five billion dollars at a problem does occasionally solve that problem. Not that Stiles thinks that not knowing your soulmate is a problem in the first place. He has the pack, his dad, a full-time job, and a cat. 

The test is simple and shockingly free. You go in, they stab you with a needle (another no thank you - as far as Stiles is concerned) and it’s over. You have your soulmates full name and date of birth printed on your right wrist. 

The government starts rolling the test out in the midwest. Two weeks later it’s abundantly clear that this is not going to support the sanctity of families. 

Married people now have strangers' names permanently imprinted on their body, and people who thought they were straight have a soulmate or soulmates names on their arm which would indicate otherwise. 

Some people have never met their soulmates because they live on the other side of the world, others discover that they are related to them by marriage. It’s a clusterfuck, albeit an occasionally funny one. 

There are more divorces filed in a week then there were in years, and a few weeks later there’s a rush at the courthouse again, this time over marriage licenses.

That’s when the President announces his plans to repeal the same-sex marriage act. 

When Stiles and Derek run through the preserve the next morning - Stiles sweat covered and foggy brained, and Derek all perfect form and casual strides - they don’t talk about the announcement. 

Instead Stiles spends the entire time talking about the moral ethics of politics and time travel in Continuum, a show that had been cancelled half a decade earlier. 

Still, Stiles isn’t surprised when Derek picks him up from work carrying two still blank signs and four sharpies. 

It’s the sort of thing they can agree on without words. 

The nationwide protests are stunningly effective. Whole counties turn up. Before, people could pretend to not know anyone who was LGBTQ+, but suddenly that ship had sailed. States that were red turn blue overnight. 

There's a brief and completely unsuccessful attempt at a cover-up that becomes an international joke, and then despite the government's best wishes, the tests become available nationwide. 

The initial rush to get tested has John Stilinski waiting in a two hour line one city over. Stiles is surprised by his father’s eagerness, but the relief John exhibits after Claudia’s name appears on his wrist is palpable. 

Derek helps them make pierogies to celebrate. Helping pinch the dough over the little packets of veal while John digs out Claudia’s old CD’s and manages somehow to get their equally old CD player to come back to life. Neko Case’s voice sweeps through the room like a ghost.

Stiles mocks Scott for lining up, only to discover that he doesn’t have a soulmate at all. His wrist is as blank as it’s always been.

All of the pack gets tested, except for Stiles and Derek, when the soulmate serum, as it comes to be called, arrives in Beacon Hills, Everyone teases them for opting out.

“You’re scared you're each other's soulmates right?” Kira jokes, her soulmate Lyric is a world away in Australia, but they still talk on the phone every night. 

“No, Stiles thinks his soulmate is his cat,” Isaac says. Issac’s soulmate is a mermaid named Clair. 

“Meow,” Stiles mouths, even though he’s fairly confident that he’s soulmate-less just like Scott. Derek doesn’t say anything, just pats his shoulder casually.

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t like anyone, or love someone specifically, he totally does, he’s just sure it’s not reciprocated. 

Before Stiles went to college, he’d just assumed Derek was straight, but when he returned and spotted Derek kissing a man in a park, it became clear that the reason Derek wasn’t interested in him had nothing to do with his gender. 

They were friends now, best friends. Honestly, the only reason they weren’t more had to be on Derek. 

Stiles convinced himself that Derek didn’t like him romantically because of all the flailing he still did, it was better than other options after all. 

(The fact that he still ate like a 16 year old, his lack of superhuman strength, the fact that he still after all these years could not shut up sometimes, were all serious contenders for why Derek didn’t like him).

He pointed this all out to Lydia when she came into town for Christmas on a rare visit. 

Lydia had taken the test, more out of curiosity than anything else she assured him, and her reaction to being soulmates with a famous dead scientist was smug glee.

Stiles and Lydia were drinking at a new cocktail bar called Death & Sacrilege, started by some former San Francisco hipsters who had been priced out of the bay area. 

Even in his Lydia approved jeans, Stiles felt out of place - a local in a place designed for city ex-pats. 

Lydia was teasing him openly for his reluctance to try the soulmate serum, and because he was three dark and stormies deep when she asked him what the worst thing that could happen, he blurted out the actual truth for the first time. Something he had not even admitted to his reflection in the mirror.

“What if my soulmate is Derek and he still doesn’t like me?”

Lydia laughs in the same calculated way she used to in high school, the way she had before they’d become actual friends. Stiles privately referred to this laugh as her “happy knife.”

“What if it’s some lovely guy or girl you’ve never met who actually likes Star Wars?” Lydia asks.

It’s been years, since Stiles believed Derek didn’t like Star Wars. Hell, they’d re-watched The Mandalorian last week. But it’s a handy reminder of how out of the actual loop Lydia was. 

The version of Derek she had in her head was clearly the pre-everyone left for college years, permanent scowl on face edition. The one who only disclosed personal details on threat of death.

Stiles is about to point out how very wrong she is, when he realizes what’s actually happening here.

He confessed his biggest fear to the wrong person, and for once that person wasn’t Scott. 

Stiles doesn’t drink anymore, playing with the straw instead, as Lydia talks about advanced math till her own drinks catch up with her and he orders a Lyft to take her home. 

Instead of ordering one for himself, he starts walking back to his own apartment. But as if by some strange pull, he finds himself at Derek’s house. 

It’s a cute house, very non Beacon Hills with it’s old fashioned windows and brick work. One story, and only two bedrooms, it looks like the sort of house an old lady with good taste would live in.

Stiles lets himself in with the keys he’s had for years.

“If you're hungry, there’s pie in the fridge,” Derek calls from the other room. Stiles can’t see him, but he can see the flickering of the TV casting shadows against the wall. 

Stiles wrinkles his nose. There’s a lot of pie he finds disgusting, including but not limited to pumpkin, cherry, and apple. 

“What kind?”

“Pecan,” Derek calls back. Stiles shouldn’t be so surprised, it’s his favorite.

After Stiles cuts himself a slice of the pie, which looks homemade, he makes his way through the house to Derek’s living room. 

The lights are off and Derek’s sprawled on the coach as Minority Report plays on the TV in front of him. A particularly unfortunate scene is playing where Tom Cruise, face partially wrapped in gauze, is dashing mostly naked across the floor of what looks like an abandoned apartment. 

“Sit up,” Stiles says, although only half heartedly.

“Too cozy,” Derek replies. 

There is an armchair right next to Derek that has just as good a view of the television. Stiles could sit there.

But instead, he tortures himself by shoving his body against Derek, wedging the back of his head into the other man’s chest, just a tad too harshly. They’ve done this before, many times, sometimes with their positions reversed. 

Stiles never thinks of it as spooning or snuggling. He thinks of it as a form of self punishment. Here on the sofa it feels like they are pretending to be what he actually wants them to be. It sucks.

“How was Lydia?” Derek asks. On screen Tom Cruise is submerged in ice and surrounded by police and a robot that looks a lot like a spider. 

Stiles looks away from the screen as the gauze is removed and says, “She doesn’t know me anymore.”

He tries not to be upset by this fact. The romantic feelings he’d once had for Lydia are so long gone, they seem like they belonged to a stranger.

Even the feelings of friendliness he’d had for Lydia this morning now seem faint and muffled. On screen, Tom Cruise is screaming.

“It happens,” Derek says, and Stiles wonders if Derek is thinking of Cora. 

“I don’t want it to happen to us.” 

“It won’t,” Derek says. He shoves Stiles a little till Stiles sits up. Then Derek sits beside him, so close their hips are touching. Only then does Derek roll up the sleeve of his shirt, to reveal clear as day, the name Mieczyslaw Stilinski on the inside of his arm.

Stiles stands up. He can’t believe that. When did Derek take the test? How long had he known? Instead of asking any of that, what he says is, “I can’t believe the font is fucking helvetica.”

Derek laughs, just for a moment, shakes his head and says, “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

Stiles doesn’t answer the question. Insead he asks his own, “How long have you had it?”

“About eight hours.”

It’s helpful to know that this isn’t a secret Derek’s kept from him for years, or even months. It’s a matter of hours. 

“Why did you get the test?” Stiles asks. 

Derek looks at the screen as if the movie has suddenly gotten interesting, before turning it off with a switch of a button on the remote. 

The room goes dark. There’s a lamp on in the entryway but the light hardly reaches here. Stiles can only see the outline of Derek’s face, his chin, his nose, his forehead, but none of the details.

The silence between them feels like an itch in Stiles bones. 

“I needed to know that what I felt for you wasn’t misguided,” Derek says finally. “I mean maybe I was an idiot party of one, longing for you, while you wanted someone else, but I hoped the serum would prove otherwise.”

“And it did?” Stiles says, walking towards Derek as if pulled by string.

“It did,” Derek says, or half says, because before the second ‘d’ is uttered out loud Stiles is kissing him. 

Derek’s lips are soft, his stubble less present than Stiles had imagined, but still there, tickling the skin of his chin. 

It feels warm and soft, like home, but also want and more and Stiles slips his tongue in between Derek’s lips. Derek makes a sound more like a cat than anything. 

It’s a good reminder to Stiles that as well as he knows Derek he doesn’t know him in this way. He pulls back for a moment, even then Derek’s eyes are impossibly close, his gaze meeting Stiles.

There’s so many things Stiles could say, but what he chooses to say out loud, finally, in the eerie half light, is “We’re both such fucking idiots.”

The next day, when Issac finds out, he pouts and says, “I can’t believe it’s not your cat.”

Stiles rolls his eyes good naturally and says, “Leave Princess Pussywillow out of it!”.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
